1. Eating Breakfast In Glass Slippers


    Date: 11/8/2014, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: TheScheherezadeFeint, Rating: 26, Source: LushStories

    Giacomo.” “No problem,” he says cheerfully in a somewhat mixed European accent, but his tone changes almost immediately, “I'll be in my room. If any of you want to apologize, I'll listen later. Right now I'm having a nap, assholes.” “Sor-” Ursula is cut off by the slamming of his bedroom door. “What the hell was that about?” she asks. We all shrug. “Maybe Andy knows something,” Matt says. “Yeah... Sorry.” Jasmine says, “I hope nobody fucked him last night,” “Maybe that's the problem,” Matt jokes. Ursula says, “I for one would like to know what's wrong.” “I would too,” I tell her, “But I don't think he's talking right now.” “Yeah,” she says, “You're right.” Sighing, Ursula continues, “So, Matt dragged you by the panties back to the land of the living, and got you up off the bench. You really don't remember any of this?” she asks. “Only bits and pieces.” “Well, we'd already run afoul of the naked bike race. Matt got knocked down twice, but we didn't care as much as when you did.” “That explains these bruises,” he says, rubbing his ass. Details are rushing back to me like a flash flood in the desert. Nowhere to run, I just try to face them down as they overwhelm me. Statues. Sculpture. Beautiful stone arches. Bewildered, I ask, “Did I want to go, or did we just end up there?” “Oh, you wanted to go, alright. After Matt mentioned the idea.” “Don't tell me...” I say. “Yep,” Ursula smiles. “It was... seriously?” “Uh-huh,” Jasmine nods as though the recently passed afternoon holds ...
    awkward moments, even to her. What could we have possibly gotten up to that would embarrass her? “Wait...” I begin, my voice trailing into the distance. With a rush of blood and anxiety straight to my face, and... other parts, I try to penetrate the wall of fog still between me and truly clear memory. “Just take another sip of your coffee, sweetie. Breathe. It'll come to you,” Ursula says. I shut my eyes as everyone stops silent at the swift suggestion of Ursula's hand. Quietly, I take her advice. “Just breathe and focus,” she says again. Pff... Therapists. - - - We're outside the fucking art museum. I'm standing in the grand stone archway which forms the outside door of the front security gate. A young woman is working the admission booth, looking very awkward, as she casts her glance about the open, round chamber. Despite the obscuring mist which shields the events of the day, I can clearly see the tiled stone floors, the gorgeous Ionian pillars which support the museums forward dome, everything. While there are only a few people in the main lobby, each and every one of them is... seriously underdressed. I love it. An installation currently hangs from the center point of its converging arches. Like an enormous spider's web full of... cowboys? Yep, screaming cowboys. I laugh; I can almost see his face on one of the dummies. Sewn together like Raggedy-Annes they dangle, helpless, waiting to be rescued by the girl of their dreams. Glaring upward into his button eyes and failing ...
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